


Twixt Twilight and Daybreak

by KeybladeCryptography



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Platonic but you can make a case for shippy undertones so I'll tag just in case, Sensory Overload, death mention, liminal spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeybladeCryptography/pseuds/KeybladeCryptography
Summary: Rox and Ven WeekDay 6: Gray AreasVen and Roxas have grown far too used to emptiness.
Relationships: Roxas & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Twixt Twilight and Daybreak

It’s five past three in the morning and violet half moons are making their home beneath Ventus’s eyes because he’s wide awake. He gazes up at the plastic galaxies glowing too bright on his ceiling as his stomach ties itself into knots. He stretches his arm to grasp the light and his fingertips nearly manage to graze the bumps and cracks of the cerulean paint he chose so long ago but he’s a few inches off. Just a little too far away, even when he strains so hard his shoulder hurts. With a faint exhale of resignation he drops his hand over his eyes and places the other over his aching chest. His heart is racing, too loud, too bright.

He can’t stay here.

His room is awash in phosphorescent stars and the amber glow of lamps lining the estate filters in through the chiffon curtains hanging about like ghosts near his window. The light draws his eye to the clutter of dust-coated books, a math problem nearly a decade old, and clothes and toys strewn about a cold hardwood floor. It’s too much, the belongings that don’t feel like his anymore filling his vision to the brim and the roar of the air conditioning flooding his ears. The boy who once lived in this room was full of live and reveled in it. Ventus doesn’t know that boy anymore. Everything is too overwhelming.

He’s become far too used to emptiness.

Ventus sits up, wincing at the rustle of the sheets and the groan of the springs as he shifts his weight. How no one else manages to hear it, he doesn’t know, but he’s thankful. He loves Terra and Aqua, loves that they have been picking up the pieces of their smiles to share their light with them, that they laugh fondly and ruffle his hair and sing in the kitchen. He loves that they are filling themselves up with all the things he once did, even as it all steals his breath and destroys his senses. He’s thankful that they can learn to live again without it hurting and he’s thankful that they believe him when he smiles and that they never feel the goosebumps dotting his skin. He presses his feet to the floor and even through his thickest socks it’s cold.

He’s memorized which floorboards creak and he tiptoes around them to grab his duster, the only brand new thing he owns, from his desk chair. He grabs the edges of his pajama sleeves as he puts it on and does the button over his sternum before sliding into his shoes. He pockets a keychain or five, just to be on the safe side, and his mp3 player. His heart beats ever louder, drowning out the almost-silence. He crosses the room to the door and takes a deep breath before cracking it open. The hallway is empty and dim but he squints against the lanterns set into the wall every few meters. Terra and Aqua can’t sleep without them. He steps outside and closes his bedroom door behind him. Glances left and right. Nothing. He shoves his hands into his pockets and sets off at a fast walk towards the courtyard.

It’s a nice night. Quiet, with a brisk breeze and a thin wisp of a moon. But it’s not good enough, not with the light of the lamps and the hum of electricity and the chirping of crickets and his feet heavy against the cobblestone path. He has to get away, hide somewhere the light and the noise can’t find him. He squeezes his tired eyes shut as he summons his keyblade armor and his glider with a burst of light. It’s heavy and no longer familiar but there’s some comfort to be found in the weight, in the way that all the light is dimmed through his shaded visor and all the noise is muted through metal and soft fabric lining. He knows just the place.

Twilight Town never sees the light of full sun even on the brightest days, always bathed in the subdued flush of dusk, making for even darker nights. It’s a small but bustling town during the day but Ventus knows from sleepovers with Roxas that the whole town sleeps at night, safe in their warm brick homes. He knows all the side streets and back alleys and hidden places that Roxas does. They’re memories made by another, memories that don’t belong to him, but they’re engraved in his heart nonetheless.

The best place is the sandlot.

It’s no great secret, far from it, but it’s nestled between the activity of the Tram Common and the coming and going of the train station. The streetlights barely touch it, only enough to cast even deeper shadows. The sand is soft and quiet beneath his feet. It’s perfect.

Ventus dismisses armor and glider alike unceremoniously and looks over his paradise, eyelids heavy. The sandlot is a playground most of the year, save for struggle season and the shadows of swingsets and slides loom over the pale earth. He crawls beneath one of the latter, a tall metal thing with graffiti sprayed on the underside of it. He draws his knees to his chest and sticks his earbuds in his ears, turning up the white noise until his own heartbeat is a hushed hum in his arteries, the way it’s supposed to be. His eyes fall shut, his head resting on his knees. His back will hurt in the morning, but it will be worth it for a few precious hours of sleep.

Or it would be, if he wasn’t interrupted by the imposing silhouette of another person. In a daze, Ventus stands, hitting his head against the top of the slide, and summons his keyblade, getting the teeth caught in the bars of the ladder. The other person steps back with his hands raised and a questioning tilt to his head, causing the all-too-familiar spikes and curls adorning it to droop. “Ven?” he asks, hardly more than a whisper. It’s just cold enough for his breath to linger in the air as a silver scrap before disappearing into oblivion.

“Roxas,” Ventus says. He blinks, once, twice, three times, trying to get his vision to refocus. He takes a deep breath and pinches himself. He’s still so tired, but it will do for now. Too late, he thinks to take out his earbuds. Roxas frowns. It’s a small shift in his expression, the slightest narrowing of his eyes, a light tension in his lips, but even as groggy as he is Ventus notices. He always does. “Sorry,” he says, an afterthought. He laughs like he always does and his voice trembles.

Roxas shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s just . . . what are you doing here?”

Ventus dismisses his keyblade, much too late, and flicks his hand. “Oh, you know. Change of scenery. What are you doing here?”

Roxas hesitates like he always does, because for all their differences Ventus knows they are the same. He offers his hand and without hesitation Ventus takes it. All his senses dull. He feels okay again, feels like himself again for the first time in weeks. Roxas leads him over to the swingset and takes a seat, never releasing Ventus’s hand. In fact, his grip only tightens and maybe that’s why the squeak of the chains doesn’t bother him at all.

“It’s weird,” Roxas says. “All my life, all I ever wanted was to have a heart and be my own person. And I have that now and I know I should be happy and I am but . . .” Ventus feels Roxas’s eyes on him and watches as Roxas shifts his focus to stare at their hands and then the sand.

“But?” Ventus prompts.

“But it’s just so overwhelming! When I was in the Organization it was still growing all that time. And it was such a blank place, y’know? Everything was white or gray. Every day was the same. I’d go on a mission and get ice cream and go to bed. Now everything’s so much. I can do whatever I want but it feels like everyone knows how to live except me.” Roxas goes quiet again and Ventus waits for him, rubbing Roxas’s hand with his thumb. “I guess that probably sounds stupid to you considering . . . yeah. It’s funny though, being here with you makes me feel better. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. I like places that are quiet and empty. The way things used to be.”

“No!” Ventus says, louder than intended. He waves his free hand. “No, it’s not stupid. I get it. I really . . . I really get it. I know that memories are stored in the heart but . . . my body and soul remember the last ten years even if I don’t. I don’t even know how that works. I’ve never been a very good student.” Ventus starts to laugh again and Roxas’s stare pierces the facade. “I can’t ask anyone. I don’t want them to worry about me. But . . . I spent ten years without my heart. Ten years without seeing or hearing or feeling anything and now I can but it’s way too much all the time.” Ventus’s voice cracks. “It’s like I was dead and now I don’t know how to be alive anymore. My own heartbeat hurts my ears. I can’t sleep because it’s so loud. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending, even though everyone tried so hard to save me.” 

Roxas’s fingers brush Ventus’s face and it’s only then that Ventus realizes he’s crying and he can’t stop. He sniffs. The tears just keep coming and he hangs his head and watches them glisten in the low light as they fall. “I’m sorry,” Ventus says. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m really . . . I’m really really sorry, Roxas, I just . . . I’m . . .”

Roxas’s hand disappears from Ventus’s and he chokes on air for a moment before Roxas is kneeling in the sand, face to face with him, and he gathers Ventus up in a tight hug. His grip is awkward at first and it takes him a minute to stop moving his hands but Ventus doesn’t care. He presses his face into Roxas’s shoulder, covered in a T-shirt that’s the most hideous shade of orange but it doesn’t matter because Roxas is familiar and somehow he makes the world around them shut up. He stains the sleeve with his tears and Roxas’s hand is a reassuring and warm weight where it rubs circles on his back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, Ven. I thought I already told you not to be sorry. It’s okay, Ven. Um . . . shhh. There, there.”

Ventus pulls back to smile even though his eyes are puffy and bloodshot and his nose is running and his cheeks are red. Roxas’s lips curl upwards. Ventus swings his arms around him and buries his face in the crook of Roxas’s neck. He listens to Roxas’s heartbeat, just as familiar as his own. “You make me feel better too,” he says. “I think my heart missed you.”

“I guess that makes about as much sense as anything. Maybe my heart missed you too.” 

Ventus hums and they lapse into the perfect silence they both sought in the first place. Ventus keeps crying until it’s sapped the remainder of his strength and Roxas, sitting on his knees in front of the swingset, keeps holding him long after he’s fallen asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know, I didn't do the past two days of Rox and Ven week. I had a lot of schoolwork and I was tired...oops. I think it kind of paid off though because? I think I'm happy with how this turned out?  
> Honestly, I'm not sure. I like the premise and the writing overall but this is my first time writing Ven as a POV character (you can take third person limited from my cold dead hands) but I'm not sure if I did it right, especially considering that the concept is maybe a little off the wall? I don't know, what do you guys think? I welcome your opinions (but please be nice).  
> ANYWAY I'll shut up now. As always, I am on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CrepusculeChaos) if you want to chat with me there. Thank you for reading!


End file.
